


Siesta Time with Henderson: After Dark

by NightshadeKitten



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Trans female reader, indulgent smut, light primal play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightshadeKitten/pseuds/NightshadeKitten
Summary: Part two of the previous fic, this one three times as long and entirely just self-indulgent erotic fiction.Fuck you, Tillman, you stupid sexy garbage man.Props to marn for the design that I drew inspiration from. Also fuck you, Marn, for making him so HOT.
Relationships: Tillman Henderson/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	Siesta Time with Henderson: After Dark

The thing that I loved more than that grin was the way it never left his face when my lips crashed into his, the instant we walked through the front door and got it closed behind us. Whatever it was about Tillman, the bastard was a goddamn good kisser, and he knew it. The way his lightly calloused fingers ran through my hair, his pressure demanding my attention and holding my adoration, the way he let out those playful little growls as he bit lightly on my lower lip. Even those stupid red contacts he wore made me shiver with desire for him.

I found myself pressed tightly against him. He was scrawny, especially by Blaseball standards, but that wiry frame promised a level of lean, dexterous strength that I craved so very much. His midnight tresses seemed to tangle with mine, messy as ever. I refused to let him break the kiss once, twice – pressing back in and greedily claiming his lips for my own each time he tried to pull back, only letting us part when we needed air, or when the natural flow gave us a moment to break, press little needful kisses in time, then back to it. Finally, after a moment more, he pulled back.

“Babe,” he murmured, breathy. To many, grating, but to me, seraphic.

“Mm…?”

“Your breath smells like cheap burgers, babe…”

I cracked open my eyes to quirk an eyebrow, my frown apparent as soon as the words fell from his lips.

He grinned wider still, and pressed in again, silencing my distaste with another little kiss that left me with hearts in my eyes.

“Good thing you’re hot, so I don’t mind.”

I rolled my eyes, and draped my arms comfortably around his shoulders, gazing into those crimson rubies.

Fuck. He’s hot.

“Bet you won’t take me back to your room, Tilly.”

A low growl escaped him, his grin devious and predatory; he knew good and well I enjoyed playing the prey.

“You know that I’m not going to stop until that’s the only word in your vocabulary, sweet cheeks.”

“Bet?”

“… No, but, bet.”

I beamed, stifling a laugh as he wrapped his hands around my waist, pulling me close, and then, slipped his arms down, right under my rear, pulling me up into his arms, eye-to-eye with the sweetest garbage fire this side of San Francisco. 

“Ooh, big badass Tillman, going to make me eat my words?”

“Shut it.”

“Make me.”

“You know that’s a dangerous phrase, don’t you little vixen?”

**“Make. Me.”**

“You got it, babydoll.”

With that, he hauled me – surprisingly well, given that I was not made of paper mache and glue – to the red velvet bedroom in the back of the house. God. It was as infuriating as he was.

Red and black velvet, silk sheets, stupid mood lights, even candles that were ready to set the scene. I swear to the Olde One, I could hear the smooth jazz playlist before it even got started.

Fuck you, Tillman. You stupid, sexy idiot.

I was brought back to focusing on one point only soon enough, though, as Tillman dropped me onto his bed, laying with my back ever-so-slightly arched as he came down with me, standing over me on hands and knees, the faint smell of his cologne – well, it was just Axe body spray, honestly – drifting through the air between the breaths that quickened as we stared at one another.

With just the lightest bite at the corner of my lips, he was on me again – bodies pressed neatly together, lips locked and hands getting lost amidst his midnight black mane, in my soft waves. He wasted no time in pressing our tongues together, dancing in turn as I answered his request. The fucker had had the most strongly-spiced thing on the menu, and even now I could taste it as I slipped into his maw. Thank fuck I didn’t mind.

Between breaths, I lavished him with my praise, my attentive adoration that I gave so willingly. He was an asshole, a scumbag, a mean-spirited frat boy, and god, how I craved him. He answered me in kind, letting me quietly into his innermost softness, his fingers dancing to pull at my top, running those hands up under the fabric after a moment, drifting upwards to give my nipples the touch he knew would drive me wild. God, how it did.

In almost an instant of him playing with me, I gasped, my back arching and pressing into his hands, modest breasts still just enough of a handful for him. The coy little laugh he gave dripped of playful dominance, bringing crimson to my face – more, anyway – and leaving me murmuring to myself sweet little nothings that would be forgotten in the days to come. I craved the touch. Tillman provided.

Seconds passed, feeling like hours; those hands never left my body. When they left, my body cried out, protesting the leave. Those thoughts were silenced when he growled out a command, slipping back to stand.

“Strip.”

Merely two heartbeats passed before I was out of my shirt, and four more to be rid of my pants – the bra next. Before I could slip off my underwear fully, he stopped me, his hand caressing the distinctive bulge behind the black, rainbow-printed boyshorts.

I gazed up at him, his chest bare, his body free from the same bonds I’d freed myself of just moments prior. His damned Clalvin Klein briefs outlined him perfectly, promising my evening to be just as blissful as the moments prior had been. I felt the ache in my entire being.

“Please,” I murmured, a feather’s whisper ‘pon a gale storm.

“Please what?”

“Please take me, Tilly…”

“Beg.”

“Please, please Tillman, god, please, anything, I’ll do it, just please…”

“Good girl,” he said, that stupid, sultry voice working wonders on me yet still. He slipped me free of those troublesome panties, my girlhood on full display to him, wrapped up in a moment later in his fingers, a gentle stroke sending me into a gasping fit of need.

“Someone’s backed up,” he teased, the sing-song whisper of his voice electric. “Let’s fix that.”

I closed my eyes, just letting the pleasure ripple through me as a few more of those gentle, powerful strokes caressed me. I was barely able to keep my breath steady, whines and moans falling from my mouth as freely as the pleasure he gave.

My breath was steady for only a moment more.

I let out an outright cry of pleasure as I felt the warm, wet sensation of lips wrapping around the head of my shaft, unexpected as anything and yet, so, so welcome.

My heart thudded in my chest, almost visible with the power, all while Tillman lavished me with his tongue, his lips, moments passing in pleasure. I felt myself building quickly to a peak, my breath betraying it – met with a murmur of disappointment as he let free with a tiny little ‘pop’.

“Tease,” I groaned out.

“Just want you finishing with me, babygirl.”

“Hmph…”

I gazed back to him again, meeting his gaze. His grin was present, but not quite as infuriatingly smug as usual – more a simple confidence that he knew that he was good at what he was doing. How the hell the guy voted as “Most Unlikable Asshole” by WKRAB for multiple years running got so goddamn good at pleasing people, I’ll never find out.

Bastard kept my mind off that, though.

The sound of a cap being popped open came next, and then my gentle gasp as I felt the cold, slick sensation of lube being lathered over and just inside my ass, only the very tip of his longest finger dipping inside. Fucking tease. He was thorough, at least, ensuring over a few moments and a few pressing digits that I was soon properly warmed up for him, sparing nothing when it came to lube and leaving me ready for him.

Fuck, how I moaned when I saw him finally free of his underwear.

Measuring in just above me, Tillman was no less proud of his own cock than of the championship rings he kept on display. Normally, I’d have made some comment about how the bastard was an asshole for being bigger than me, but in the moment, I was more enthralled at the prospect of having it inside me than anything else.

“Ready, baby?”

“Fuck me raw, Tillman.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Tillman.”

I let out a gasping moan once more, feeling the hot cock against my rear. And another when he slipped it inside me, slow and sure, but with no qualms about getting himself tightly buried balls deep inside me as quickly as I could handle.

He leaned forward towards me. I captured him in my arms, drawing him in for a kiss, my legs wrapping around his midsection while he began to slide his hips back, then inside me again; I felt as though I were latched onto him for dear life, and oh, how he gave me the life I needed.

I moaned into his lips, one hand burying into that gorgeous raven-dark mane, finding purchase to hold onto as I rocked into his motions, sliding back as he did, meeting him with force when he shoved himself inside me again, the sounds of skin on skin amplified with the slick sound of lube just underneath it. He filled me so fully, my body aching for him, because of him. My lips never parted his for more than a second or two, the space between them filled with needful begging and lustful adoration as I caught breath.

Leaving my lips, then, Henderson slipped downward, nipping and nibbling at my earlobe – earning yet another rippling shiver of pleasure. I’d made the mistake early on of telling him about my ears being my weak spot – he often would sneak a little bite or lick to my ear when we were out and nobody was watching. He exploited it ruthlessly, his lips and tongue working in unison to give me the sensations that made me quiver in place, losing my rhythm as I found myself sinking into the ocean of pleasure he gave me.

“Fuck,” was all I could manage.

My hips bucked a few times, my peak coming furiously and quickly as a slight readjustment of his body drove him straight home over my sweet spot, my girlcock throbbing and dribbling its sweet, sticky, clear pleasure; the mere presence of something more than mere pleasure a testament to how turned on I was. I continued to ride him despite myself, desperate to please him as he’d pleased me. Though messy and without much direction behind the haze of both orgasm and mere lust-drunk need, I did well enough.

The low growl he gave, that quiet little moan, just the lightest bit hoarse and entirely devoid of any pretext.

“Fuck, baby, I’m cumming.”

“Fill me up, baby, please…”

“Maybe…ngh…another time…”

“You’re such a prick.”

“Heh.”

Despite his play at being such a big billy badass, he buried in deep once more, his balls meeting my rear as I felt him spasm inside me, the distinct sensation of getting filled with his hot, thick load sending electric shocks through my whole body. Had I not already just cum, I would have again – the pleasure I felt at merely successfully getting him off threatened to take me to peak number two on its own.  
A haze seemed to fall over us after that. Him, buried inside me and softening slowly, soon popping free with a mess following him; me, shivering and quivering in his arms, stroking his hair and murmuring my praise to him.

“Did you have fun, baby?”

“You have no idea, Tilly.”

“Good.”

He rolled over onto bed, spent. I half-rolled, coming to cuddle up right next to him, my arm draped over his chest, one leg slipped up over his. All that was missing was a post-fuck smoke and for Tillman to not call me in the morning.

“Siesta sleep time?”

“Siesta sleep time.”

“Night, then, Tillman.”

“Night, babe. Don’t wake me up if you get up first. Unless you make waffles.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Fuckin’ love waffles.”


End file.
